52
SONNET.
Thou art enshrined, although thou knowst it not,
With many a blessing, borne on the soft air
Which hovers round thee from my evening prayer;
And thou, although the voice thou hast forgot,
Art living in the sweetness of its spell,
Which, at Heaven's gate is pleading still for thee,
Invoking peace upon thy destiny;
And wishing thee, in thy heart's hallowed cell,
Blest hopes and fairest memories—and such days
As may defy the fleeting wing of time,
And bear bright fruits of virtue, to a clime
Where they may bloom in the Eternal praise—
Thou art surrounded thus with holiest charm,
And friendship's sacred prayer still shields thy life from harm.
With many a blessing, borne on the soft air
Which hovers round thee from my evening prayer;
And thou, although the voice thou hast forgot,
Art living in the sweetness of its spell,
Which, at Heaven's gate is pleading still for thee,
Invoking peace upon thy destiny;
And wishing thee, in thy heart's hallowed cell,
Blest hopes and fairest memories—and such days
As may defy the fleeting wing of time,
And bear bright fruits of virtue, to a clime
Where they may bloom in the Eternal praise—
Thou art surrounded thus with holiest charm,
And friendship's sacred prayer still shields thy life from harm.
